Always Changing
by Emerald Sage
Summary: ReWrite:When bad news breaks the Camp's impenetrable borders, twelve year old Percy falls into a sea of devestation with only one way out. With a gang of immortal creatures from a race thought dead, a never ending search for a boy they'd all underestimated, and a boy who refused to be defeated, to stand down, even when there was nothing left to fight for...the world always changes
1. The Gift

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi everyone! This is the re-write of Everchanging! It was one of my favorite works, and I'm kind of disappointed at the response to it, so I'm going to try again. I'm going to post up a few chapters this week, and through next week, hopefully. My last final is on Monday (French) and I don't start my summer courses until the 18****th****. Wish me luck guys!**

**DISCLAIMER: This is a story-wide disclaimer! I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians in any way, shape, or form. Rick Riordan is an amazing writer who lives in San Antonio, Texas, and while I did live there at one point, I am NOT him.**

**WARNINGS: AU after the Lightning Thief, no Romance, rituals and powers could be unique to this story and not available in reality at all; that's all I can think of right now. **

**Enjoy the story guys!**

**_CHAPTER ONE_: _The Gift_**

_Trust no one, Percy_, the voice of his father whispered in his head. _Trust no one unless you have no other choice, unless you could place your life in their hands and know they'd keep it safe for you. Trust no one but yourself._

Only hours ago, Percy would've ignored this warning; it wouldn't have meant anything serious to him, and his father would've known that. He had been a mostly naïve pre-teen, about to hit thirteen with two best friends: Annabeth Chase, the daughter of Athena, and Grover Underwood, a satyr. He'd been ready to leave Camp the next morning and head to a new school, a new life with his mother, and _without_ his irritating step-father Gabe. He was a child of Poseidon with so many trustworthy friends, and so many people he would risk his life to save.

That all changed when Chiron walked up to him after the campfire sing-along.

He angrily swiped at the fresh tears building in his tired eyes; he could not afford to cry anymore. He'd found sanctuary in his father's arms, as he'd cried until he fell silent, with no more tears to cry. Two words ruined his life, and set him on his current path. Two words brought his whole world down around his ears.

"_She's dead._"

And this time it was true. This time she hadn't vanished in a flash of golden light; she hadn't been taken as a hostage. She couldn't be rescued from his uncle's realm like they'd tried to only a month ago.

His mother, his sweet, wonderful mother, was dead. And this time she wasn't coming back.

"_What's wrong, Chiron? Did something happen?_"

"_There was a fire in an apartment in upper Manhattan early this morning, Percy. The fire was vicious; it spread out over several blocks and claimed dozens of lives. There was an area in which no survivors were found. They are calling it the Dead Zone."_

"_But, why does this concern me?"_

"_Your home was located in this dead zone."_

"_What? But, my mom…"_

"_I'm sorry, Percy. She's dead."_

He pulled himself away from the vision of earlier that night, and focused on the pounding of his sneakers on the street, but his mind refused to let the memory to rest. He recalled that he'd run from Chiron, just as he'd been dismissed. The old centaur hadn't asked whether he'd be staying the whole year anymore. It was a given now, he had nowhere else to go. But he had other plans. He may only be thirteen, but he was resourceful. He knew how to work people; he knew how to survive on the streets by himself. He'd run straight to the open beach which stretched for miles, and ran until he couldn't see the dimming lights of the Camp he was leaving behind. He ran until he couldn't take it anymore; he ran until he'd run out of breath and collapsed into the rising tide, tears building in his eyes. He hadn't even realized when another presence joined him until he was wrapped tightly in the comforting embrace of his father.

His father had felt his sorrow as he'd collapsed into the rising tide on the beach, sensed that he wasn't within the borders of the Camp, and had come to find out what had happened. He'd seen what had happened to Sally Jackson, but he'd seen something his son hadn't known. While the death of dozens of people had been an accident, the fire, which had wiped out dozens of lives and homes, had not been. It had been an attempt at locating his son; an attempt to flush out the thirteen year old boy who now had nothing to lose after the loss of his only family.

Sally Jackson had known where her only son, her powerful thirteen year old son, was hidden. She believed she was the only one (save for Poseidon) to truly know her secret. But she hadn't been, and it had cost her. She'd withheld the location of her only child from those who had wished to do him harm, and they killed her for it. The fire had been a cover. No one would be able to tell she had been murdered if the whole block was set on fire.

When he'd heard this, he'd frozen. His father watched him sadly, as he'd tried to come to terms with the fact that a group of mortals had killed his mother and started a fire to cover it up. What was worse was that he wasn't able to come to terms with the fact that it had been him they were truly after. What had he done, after all? What talent could he possibly possess that would intrigue a group of dangerous mortals? He was only a kid, for gods' sakes.

That was when his father told him a secret. A secret his mother had carried and his grandmother before her: the secret of his mother's lineage, her ancestry, and her race.

She wasn't who the world had believed her to be, and to her knowledge, only his father had known. Now she'd paid for the consequence of such ignorance and he was left alone.

Now, he was thirteen years old, with a concealed intelligence worthy of a child of Athena, the cunning and stealth of a child of Hermes, and talents which could match the Gods.

And only his father knew.

_**THE WORLD**_

The pounding of blood in his ears resembled the rhythm of his feet beating on the sidewalk. He was in New York City, New York, and he was running for his life.

He'd entered the city only an hour ago, tired of moping around on the hills of Long Island. He had felt too close to Camp, and knew that if they'd found him, they'd bring him back. Right now he couldn't afford that.

Before he'd entered the city, he'd activated a latent talent that could only have been brought out by a traumatic experience. In his case, it was the murder of his mother. His talent allowed him to morph, or to change any part of his body. It was an incredible talent that had driven him into a state of awe when he'd first discovered it. He could literally morph his body into any form; he could change his hair, nails, face, eyes, etc… to different colors, shapes, sizes, and styles.

"_It is your instinctive ability to shift, or to change. Man was gifted the ability to adapt to his environment. In your case, this is an incredibly advanced version of that small gift. You can appear to be a completely different person, or even an inanimate object. With this ability, you are more dangerous than many people can comprehend._" His father's acknowledgement of the gift was as good as a billboard declaring to the world "USE ME! I'M IMPORTANT!"

Right now, as he ran for his life and freedom, he sported shaggy, dirty blond hair and almond shaped cerulean eyes which mimicked the Caribbean Sea on a good morning. Come to think of it, that is probably what tipped them off. His eyes had a tendency to mimic the sea, whichever color they were. At the moment, his eyes portrayed a building storm, but one that hadn't reached land yet. His anguish combined with his father's, and the mortal world would never survive the coming storm. They had to keep it far away from mortal territory.

His blue eyes glanced back briefly, and he instructed his feet to pick up the pace. There were three men chasing him, all muscular, though not overly so, and all taller than him. Their strides were longer than his, and they covered more ground than he did. He had to run faster, harder, farther than they did unless he wanted to get caught. It was only the nighttime crowds that were preventing them from reaching him easily.

However, his body was tiring. He'd been running ever since Chiron had broken the life-shattering news to him only hours before dusk. He'd run for hours and hours until he'd hitched a ride into the center of the thriving nightlife of New York City. And he'd been on his feet ever since. It wouldn't be long at all before his body began to slow, to demand rest. And soon after that, he would be overtaken by the three muscular men who were chasing him.

Determination set in, enhancing the adrenalin coursing through his veins. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught. He refused to be captured and used. He wouldn't let his mother's silent sacrifice be in vain. They would not get to him, whether they were his mother's killers or the Camp's seekers.

His keen eyes picked up a shadowed alleyway up in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder once again, only to realize that another man had joined the group chasing him, only this man's form was slighter than the others, and instead of the monochromatic monotony of brown hair such as the other three, this man had a shock of blond hair plastered on his head. Shaking his head, he refocused on the shadowed alley coming up.

Upon reaching the alley, he pivoted 90 degrees on his heel and sped into the shadowy confines of the darkened alley. His eyes widened when he realized that there was a large man draped in black waiting for him in the center. Just as the man leapt forward to tackle him, he dropped and skid straight underneath him, and jumped to his feet the moment the danger had passed.

Upon reaching his feet, he heard a loud _thump!_ - most likely indicating that one of the men chasing him had been caught by the tackle instead of him, just as another cried out a warning.

His body froze, despite the fact that he remained in motion. An overwhelming feeling of dread welled up in his body, and he exhaled harshly. He'd recognized that shout.

_Luke_.

He ran faster than he had ever dared to, adrenalin and fear spiking his body, pushing him to higher limits. He couldn't afford to be caught, he knew that. But could he afford to stop now, even for a brief respite for his aching body?

No. Not with Luke so close by; not with them right on his tail. That was the last thing he could afford right now.

And without another thought, he sped through the shadow filled alley, cutting through the city's thriving nightlife, allowing the crowd to camouflage his slight form. He couldn't afford to lose even a second, and though his morphing talent could help hide him even better in such a crowd, he couldn't chance using it should someone see him change and recognize the ability. The ability would classify him as dangerous, deadly, and guarantee him a place in the Underworld.

His eyes caught a nearby hotel, and he knew that if he stood a chance of changing undetected anywhere, it would be in there.

Glancing back, he noticed the four, now five, men were nowhere to be seen. He knew they were there, but, he guessed that they had taken advantage of the crowd to disperse and search for him. It would be hard to spot any of them in this kind of a crowd, especially the three monochromatic men who were dressed in the same outfits with the same hair color and facial features. They would blend right in. Sighing, he turned his sights back to the hotel, even as he pulled his hood up and the loose backpack he'd been gifted tighter around him.

Without another backwards glance, he ran towards the hotel, hoping beyond hope, that no one important saw him.

_**IS**_

He slipped into the hotel in utter silence, sticking to the shadows of the brightly lit marble lobby. His cerulean eyes frantically sought out a bathroom sigh, or even a custodian's closet. Anywhere he could close the door and change without security coming and banging on the door for being somewhere he's not supposed to be. He couldn't stay in the lobby for long either; someone might notice that he wasn't supposed to be there, or his pursuers would catch on to the one location he had a chance in losing them in, and rush in before he could change safely.

While searching, his eyes caught a customer who was checking in for the night making his way down the hall, near the elevators on the opposite side. The glowing little numbers read a scarlet five. He sighed and his eyes moved away from the glowing digit. And finally, to his frantic relief, he caught sight of the men's bathroom sign near the elevator, which gave him another idea.

Slipping into the dimly lit hallway, he walked softly towards the elevator, and waited for its arrival. Upon hearing the soft _'ding'_ which allowed its doors to open, he slipped inside and hit the button with the elegant number five scrawled on it.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the cerulean to darken to a beautiful sapphire, and caused the shape to narrow slightly. His hair would appear a darkish blond almost brown in the security cameras because of the dim lighting, but now they would appear as such to anyone who saw him. To the security personnel watching the camera footage for the elevator, they would see no change, he knew. But to anyone else, one person got on the elevator on the first floor, and a totally different person got off.

Regardless of the minor changes in the elevator, he still decided to slip into the bathroom conveniently located next to the elevators on the fifth floor. He slipped into the stalls and darkened his hair to a milk-chocolate brown, and willed his eyes to retain their sapphire color and almond shape. He also pulled a sea green hooded sweatshirt, from the loose backpack, which read _Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble_ on it in onyx. He swapped blue jean shorts for black skinny jeans. Riptide was slipped into his right jean pocket, and the wallet filled with money and other important information was slipped into the left one.

Sliding the backpack onto his shoulders, and increasing his height by an inch or two, he slipped from the stall and stalked to the mirror in order to examine himself. A relieved smile curled his lips. He would be fine for tonight, but he still had to get out of the city.

With more confidence than he believed he had, he made his way down the elevator to the first floor. Leaving through the back entrance was too risky; they would have someone stationed there if he was suspected to have run in. He would blow everything if he made that mistake. He strode to the concierge and offered a polite, charming smile. The tired redhead smiled back at him, and asked him what he needed.

"Is there a Chinese place open late?" he questioned shyly, cheeks tinting pink slightly, as if the question embarrassed him. At the raised eyebrow of the concierge, he decided to elaborate, "My parents were really tired, as we got in late. They took a nap and just woke up." He nearly froze when he saw two men, one of the monochromatic trio, and the other one the man in black, enter the building, eyes sweeping the lobby.

"I'm a bit of a night-owl, you see." He admitted, slightly louder, attracting the attention of the two men intentionally; he needed them to hear his conversation or they'd follow him everywhere tonight, just on suspicion. "And I love Chinese food, so they delegated the task of grabbing dinner to me." The shy smile was a bit more confident this time. The concierge smiled at him, though it was tired. Anyone would be, he thought, it was nearing the middle of the night.

"There should be a couple down the street, I'll give you some directions…" she trailed off as she reached for some papers inside a drawer nearby. They chatted a bit longer about good restaurants open at this hour and how good the food was in one compared to another. He left the concierge with a bunch of papers, and two complementary pens, and walked straight passed the two men who were still combing the lobby with their eyes. Finally, they decided to split up and take the two corridors on either side of the reception area. With a slightly lifted mood, he descended into the nightlife of New York City.

He'd no clue of the havoc the five men would wreck trying to find him.

_**ALWAYS**_

It'd taken him the remainder of the night hours to do it, but he'd finally left the city. He was on his way to Maryland, having hitched a ride on a cross country tour bus, paying an entry fee (only a few dollars to them, but it was limited resources to him) to join in on the fun until the first nightly stop. Hopefully, it would get him far enough from his pursuers to get them to drop their search, if only temporarily, and help him get established somewhere.

Somewhere, while he'd been escaping the city on foot, he'd changed his eye color to a gentle hazel and his hair to a fiery auburn. His face softened, giving him the appearance of a ten year-old boy. Another sweatshirt, blue this time, made an appearance. Thanking his father multiple times mentally for the gift of a no-limit, weightless backpack which would always find its way back to him, and with anti-theft defenses, he plundered on until the tour bus had picked him up.

He was half-asleep in one of the seats next to the emergency exit window, and honestly, he was surprised at how long it took him. The small part of his brain that was fully coherent was wondering at the actions of the body. He'd expect he would've fallen asleep on the walk to the bus stop. He'd been awake since early morning yesterday, and had yet to go to sleep and give his body a break. Even now, he wasn't fully asleep because he needed to be somewhat aware should something dangerous occur. If he wasn't, there was a chance he wouldn't make it out unscathed, or at all.

Being half-asleep, he was also half aware that another person was walking over to him, intent on occupying the seat next to him. Swiftly, but without alarming intensity, his senses were returned to his half-conscious body, bringing him about full consciousness, and moaning softly at the lack of much needed sleep.

He blinked innocent hazel eyes at the blue-green eyed young man seating himself next to him. After a minute of inconspicuously watching the man, who looked no older than twenty, he turned his attention to the passengers boarding the bus, all the while keeping one wary hazel eye on the man next to him. Just as the final passenger, a man in his thirties with sandy brown hair and onyx chips for eyes, boarded the bus, and as the bus started moving, the man next to him, turned to fully face him.

He blinked innocently at the older man. The young man raised an inky black eyebrow. He blinked again. The man didn't move.

"Yes?" he finally asked, eyes going from innocent to wary in a split-second. The man studied him for a moment, then smirked and turned to face the seat in front of him. Confused, he turned back to the window, one eye still on the elder male. This is why he noticed the moment the man began to speak.

"There is a lot more than mortals after you, little one." Bright hazel snapped to blue-green.

"I usually don't offer much advice to heroes," the man muttered, turning slightly so no one else could see him speak, "much less gifts, but with all the forces of evil, be they mortal or immortal, concentrated on you, I suppose I have to do so at least once." The _'not that you'll be mortal much longer_' part was whispered under his breath, but caught by the teen's sharp hearing.

The raven haired young man tugged a bag from his lap, the same black bag he himself owned, only with a green colored design on the front pocket. His design was in turquoise. The man smirked at his surprised look. From within the bag, he withdrew a small, silver chain with a beautiful pendant in the center. The pendant was a flat triangle made of mother of pearl with a beautiful engraving, a twisted conch with a trident which crossed the triangle diagonally behind it, in the center. The engraving had embedded shards of emerald and sapphire: emerald in the tips of the trident, and sapphire in the tips of the conch shell. The entire object took his breath away and he reached out to touch it. The man smiled genuinely at him, observing his reaction.

He clasped it gently around the teen's neck.

"It is a protection charm." The man said softly, watching as hazel was filled in by sea green, "Only I can take it off, but it will hide should an enemy appear. You will always see it as it is, but no one else, save me, will, unless you wish it."

He reached up and tugged on the charm slightly, so he could see the design once more.

"Good luck, little brother." Hazel/Sea green eyes snapped up, hearing the soft whisper.

But the man was gone.

_**CHANGING**_

**Completed: Saturday, June 09, 2012**

**Time: 7:48pm Eastern Time (USA)**

**Words: 3,770**

**As an aspiring writer, nothing matters more to me than how much my readers enjoy my stories. Please take the time to review, even if it is just one or two words. Constructive criticism is appreciated, Flames are not.**

**Thanks Everyone!**

**Em =D**


	2. Trouble

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi everyone! It's me again! I'm trying to finish Chapter 2 as soon as I possibly can, but my last final is tomorrow (June 11****th****), as well as my learner's permit test. My cousins are headed up here on Wednesday, so I'm going to be real busy these next two weeks. Anyways, wish me luck on these chapters! HEADS UP for this chapter, it is not written in Percy's POV, at least in the beginning. It might change to his POV towards the end. Sorry if the moods shift a bit in this chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: Check the last chapter please!**

**WARNINGS: AU after the Lightning Thief, no Romance, rituals and powers could be unique to this story and not available in reality at all; that's all I can think of right now.**

**Enjoy the Chapter guys!**

**CHAPTER 2: **_**Trouble**_

Eyes of sea foam flashed dangerously as their owner strode regally down the halls. Their owner, whose regal stride matched his features, was annoyed. This was not a good thing for all the people in his kingdom, nor the mortals who would likely suffer the results of his simmering rage. Unfortunately, he would be unable to stop his rage from rising should the meeting he was currently en route to would cover the topic he sorely wished to conceal. However, he was not a fool; he knew this meeting, called only a month or so after the solstice was of great importance. The only issue of great importance which could've drawn forth this kind of attention was the one he had no wish to discuss, even with his family.

Scratch that; _especially_ with his family.

The King of the Seas entered the throne room without as much as a word to the gathered divinities. Nodding in acknowledgement to them, he seated himself upon his throne, trident leaning against the right arm, and leant back, impatient for the meeting to begin.

He met the warm, fiery eyes of his sister, the goddess of the Hearth and Home, the only one who was aware of what had occurred. He was sure only she knew what had truly happened after Sally's murder. No one else would've known. They couldn't have known. None of his family would know what he had done to give his son a fighting chance.

Only he would know.

A loud sound-that of a throat being cleared-drew him from his rapidly darkening thoughts; his brother had called the meeting to order. A quick glance around the room informed him that none of the gathered divinities were aware of the topic of the abruptly called meeting. All were curious, though some hid it well. Hera and Demeter were both curious, though they restrained themselves from questioning until the topic was released. Ares was sitting in his chair, looking bored with a glazed look in his fire-filled eyes while Aphrodite had been chattering softly next to him. Hephaestus and Dionysus were both looking attentive, with a bored light in their eyes. Hermes was quiet, which was a rarity in itself, though his eyes glanced to Apollo frequently, mischief glinting in his eyes. Apollo and Artemis, for all their differences, had identical looks of curiosity and ill-concealed impatience painted on their countenance, though he thought he saw a glint of knowledge in the Sun God's eyes. Athena was waiting patiently for the meeting to begin, no sign of boredom present, though the curiosity in her stormy eyes was hard to miss. Hades was here too, though that really didn't surprise him. His elder brother was just as bad at concealing his curiosity as the rest of the group, though the Earthshaker didn't blame him at all. It must be some meeting to drag the King of the Underworld to Olympus. Hestia's eyes glinted with knowledge and concern as they studied him. She alone knew what had happened.

All attention was drawn to Zeus, the King of the Sky, as he glanced at all the others. The man stood from his throne to begin the meeting.

"Good morning, everyone." His voice boomed, and thunder rolled in the stormy skies beneath them. "I have unfortunate news to pass forth." All the divinities exchanged worried glances, save him and his eldest sister.

"Percy Jackson is missing." Cue the uproar, he thought. Percy was the only demigod child born to one of the Big Three sons of Kronos, and as such, was thought to be the child of the Prophecy given by the Oracle years and years ago. If the teen was missing, that meant he was vulnerable to Kronos's influence. If Kronos turned Percy, than he would have the key weapon to ending the rein of the gods. It was bad news indeed, but it was old news. He'd been there when Percy disappeared; he'd helped the child go.

"Are you positive?" someone, it was impossible to tell who in the chaos, asked. All the noise quieted, so the answer could be heard.

"Yes," Zeus answered, "Chiron sent an Iris Message only an hour ago. The forest was scoured, the grounds searched, and people interrogated. Jackson was said to have vanished early yesterday evening, before dusk." Before the noise level could rise from tolerable to chaotic, the doors to the room, and he used that word lightly, swung open majestically, revealing Chiron in his centaur form. The gathered divinities quieted.

"You have news, Chiron?" The dark-eyed King of the Underworld questioned. Chiron bowed to Hades, and when he righted himself, ready to speak, all the gods and goddesses leant forward, even him.

"Only unfortunate news, my Lord." He responded, a tone of worry coloring his words. "I'm afraid our seekers have confirmed one thing: Percy Jackson has crossed the New York state line."

The news that his son had left the state, within a single night of his disappearance, restarted the uproar. He, himself, was rather proud of his son, though worried. He knew Percy had been on foot the entire time, and he wondered at how his child had managed to cross hundreds of miles in a matter of hours. Zeus leant backwards in his throne, closing his eyes, drawing the Stormbringer's attention. The noise was rapidly rising beyond chaotic.

"QUIET!" and all the noise ceased. All eyes, ranging from incredulous to grateful, turned to the regal young woman poised on a seat near the hearth. Fiery eyes glared at them all accusingly.

"Now," she said softly, so they strained to hear her, "that we have stopped acting like a bunch of rambunctious children" a collective wince rippled through the gathered, "we can discuss the issue and attend to it, instead of getting nowhere by arguing pointless specifics." Her eyes were drawn to Ares and Aphrodite, the two discussing the downside of not having his son in Camp. Ares was growling at the fact that his children couldn't pound 'the punk' into a pulp anymore, and Aphrodite was bemoaning the fact that her plans for Percy were stopped at a dead end. Both had the decency to look ashamed when the fiery glare was on them.

Hestia, he thought, slightly amused, never had the patience for nonsense when one of her family was endangered, no matter how estranged that family is. Add to the fact that Percy had spoken to her when she'd been in Camp disguised as a girl tending the fire, unlike most of the other campers, and one could see the reason Hestia had a soft spot for her teenage nephew.

Hestia's eyes turned to Zeus, who shrunk almost unnoticeably from her searching gaze.

"Brother, if you could continue the meeting?" Eager to clear the tension which had developed, he nodded.

"Yes, of course," he turned to Chiron, "is there any more to report?"

"Only small things, my Lord" the centaur responded, "I'm not sure how they might aid the search for the boy." Zeus waved his hand.

"No matter, inform us regardless." The other gods and goddesses leaned closer once more, all ready to analyze every shred of information given.

"A tree nymph spotted him an hour before his estimated time of departure from Camp. She said that he was running towards the beach. We searched the entire stretch of the beach, even the sections that ran outside the boundaries, but there was no sign he'd ever been there." Hermes spoke up after a moment.

"Uncle Poseidon," he said, and all the divinities turned to him, "could he have entered the sea and used it to leave camp?" Then all eyes turned to the brooding sea god. The man sighed.

"No," he said softly, "not without alerting me to his presence." Many shoulders slumped.

"Say," the love goddess drew the attention to her, "what caused him to make this kind of a decision? Was he emotionally stable?" they stared at her for a moment and she huffed. Then they all turned to Chiron, who had paled slightly.

"No, I suspect he might not have been emotionally stable at the moment." The centaur breathed, "I cannot believe I did not even consider it." He murmured to himself.

"Consider what?" the godly twin pair chorused, without realizing it.

"I should've watched him." The trainer muttered once more before looking up, "I had just informed him of the fire which occurred in Upper Manhattan that morning. It originated near his home, and his mother had been one of the victims." Looks of realization flashed across several faces, only to be changed to disbelief with the next words spoken.

"That's not possible." All eyes turned to the God of the Dead, and this time, even he looked curious. How could Sally not be dead? He had watched the event occur, unable to act in time to save Sally's life. He'd given her the ancient rites, and hoped her soul would make it to Elysium. His only blessing was that he wouldn't have to tell his son. To inform his only demigod child that the boy's mother had been murdered in an attempt to kidnap him was not the kind of bonding he'd wanted to share with his son. And his son's grief would be so immense; he wasn't sure how he could've dealt with it. He'd appeared later to comfort his son, yes, but he'd allowed the child some time to deal with some of the grief.

"I witnessed the attack myself, brother," he spoke up, causing many to stare at him in shock at what he'd said, "I saw her life fade. I gave her the ancient rites." A brief flare of understanding showed in darkened eyes; his brother, at least, knew how he felt. His sea green eyes, hardened with grief and loss, glared into the dark eyes of his brother, "So how was it not possible?"

"Her soul does not reside in the Underworld." He felt his chest grow cold as everyone froze. All eyes were on the dark-eyed, eldest son of Kronos.

"That isn't possible," Hermes whispered, eyes wide, "If she has truly died and Uncle Poseidon has given her the ancient rites, than she should've passed through Charon's ferry and entered the Underworld." The lord of the Dead nodded.

"That is true." He acknowledged, "Unfortunately, I cannot sense her presence in the Underworld. Therefore, she is either not dead, capable of hiding her presence from me, or a solution unknown to us."

The King of the Seas gripped the arms of his throne, dread building in him as the tides on the night of a full moon. What if her secret was discovered? What if he couldn't protect his son's true ancestry from being discovered? How would he protect his son then? He glanced around the room, and found that only Hestia was paying any attention to him whatsoever.

_You know the truth about her_, she mouthed to him. He froze slightly, but nodded. She glanced around to ensure no one else would notice, and then turned back to him.

_Does Percy know?_ Another small nod was her answer.

_When was he told?_ Her eyes demanded an answer.

_Yesterday, an hour or so before dusk._ He mouthed back to his sister once he'd checked no one was watching him. Her eyes widened, and narrowed at him, and he shot her an _'I couldn't help it'_ glance.

"Poseidon," his eyes snapped towards Hades, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, "are you alright?" Some of the gods had heard his brother's question and turned to him, while others argued over something that they had been discussing.

He offered a wordless nod to his brother, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He was not all right, truly. He had loved Sally, and he loved his son. The thought of his child out there alone, with no help and no one to turn to, sent spikes of grief and sorrow through his veins. And he had a secret to carry, one he could not burden with anyone else, lest they endanger his son further. So no, the true answer to his brother's question was no; he was not all right. But he had to act differently. He had to be able to protect his son, and they needed to believe he was emotionally stable enough to participate in a meeting like this. So he nodded, regardless of the knowing look in those dark eyes.

Athena had been watching him coolly, grey eyes glinting, he knew. She had been watching his grief surface on his face when it made it through the blank, indifferent mask he had worn that night. It was so hide to shelter his emotions, and he had trouble with his mask as, he knew, his son did. The sea could not lie to itself, and he _was_ the sea. While hurricanes and tsunamis rolled around in the middle of the ocean, far away from mortal society, he knew he could not lie to himself about his state of mind. And Athena knew it to. She, as his rival, knew how to read him better than any other, save for, perhaps, his sister, his sons, and Sally. So when she cleared her throat, eyes watching him accusingly, he knew what she was going to say.

"Uncle Poseidon," she addressed him, drawing everyone's eyes to the upcoming confrontation, "it seems that you are aware of something we are not." He remained silent, eyes of sea foam locked with eye of hard steel.

"Brother," all eyes turned to Hestia, who had eyes only for her brother. They were concerned, and guilty, though he wondered at the latter. She was the last one to have anything to be guilty of.

"Perhaps you should tell them about Sally." His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to refuse the possibility; everyone thought she was a normal mortal and that was how he planned on keeping it, but Hestia intervened before he could say a word. "Not all of it brother," she assured him, "but an important part that could aid us in finding your son." His weakness: his son's safety; it was ironic that his sister who'd worked so hard to protect his son, would use the boy's own protection as a reason to reveal a secret which could do the exact opposite. He repressed a snort with difficulty, though he might not have been all that successful, as Hades had raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking _'what was so funny?'_

"This will protect him?" the words were pulled from his mouth, almost unwillingly. All the gods watched him curiously as he struggled to word his condition. "No harm will come to him from us should this information come to light?"

Now he'd dragged everyone's attention to him. Such a condition was rarely issued in regards to a demigod or mortal, most of the time because the challenges of Gods and monsters were aimed to keep demigods on their toes and prove them worthy to their parents. Why the ruler of the seas wanted this promise from the Gods confused them. What secret could put a child at so much risk?

"No harm will come to the boy should the secret you speak be of such importance." The dark eyed, eldest son of Kronos was the one who spoke first. He sensed the conflict within his brother-to tell or not to tell? - and knew that if the secret was kept, than many things, not just his nephew, would be endangered. The King of the Sea sighed in resignation as he looked around and saw the nods of agreement.

"I suppose a little secret should not cause too much damage," he whispered, though he knew everyone heard him. He would not tell them everything, and he knew some understood this. Now, where to start?

"Sally," he decided, "is where everything begins, and ends." The mostly confused faces made him want to laugh, but the topic of discussion was far too serious at the moment.

"You see, Sally wasn't a mortal."

_**The World**_

His eyelids were drooping in drowsiness as sleep threatened to overwhelm him. They'd crossed from Pennsylvania to New Jersey only half an hour ago, and they would be stopping soon for a lunch break. The departure of the blue-green eyed man, god-his mind insisted, triggered a state of almost constant alertness. Adding to the fact that he'd felt some form of _wrong _energy coming from somewhere on the bus, and it was no wonder he was nearly asleep in his seat. The only thing keeping him from much needed sleep was the aforementioned _wrong energy_ which he could sense coming from someone in the back of the bus.

His mind assumed it was either a monster or a Hunter.

His body was too tired to care.

"Are you alright?"

Sleepy hazel eyes looked up at the man who'd asked him the question. With light blond hair and concerned blue eyes, the man seemed genuine in his questioning. His mind whispered that it could be a potential enemy, but his body was too tired to correspond.

"I'm tired." He whispered. The man studied him briefly, and nodded.

"You look it, little one. Where are your parents, kiddo?" his mind screamed at him; that was a dangerous question.

"Mommy got lost," he slurred slightly, "and I didn't 'member the bus number. Went to the bathroom, and got back, Mommy was gone." The blue eyed man looked sad.

"Don't worry, kiddo, we'll find her." The man proposed optimistically, but the sad and half-angry light in his eyes said something different.

_She abandoned her kid? What kind of woman is she? He looks no older than ten, poor boy. I can't believe he managed to get on a bus, imagine what would've happened if he'd wandered off and gotten lost in New York!_

"Mommy's gone," he whispered. As the blue eyed man opened his mouth to reassure him, he spoke again, "Mommy's not coming back. Mommy's gone like Daddy. Daddy said Mommy would make a pretty angel. Haven't seen Daddy in a long time." He turned sleepy hazel eyes on a shocked blue counterpart. "Will Daddy be a pretty angel too? Pretty like the sea…"

_Oh my gods…_.

"Yes, kiddo. If he looked anything like you, than your mommy and daddy would make beautiful angels." He blinked drowsily at the man, his mind aware that things could slip out unexpectedly in his vulnerable state. So, completely ignoring his mind's screaming warnings, he snuggled up to the man next to him, and dropped straight to sleep.

_**Is Always**_

When he woke up, he was well rested and fresh. He was fairly sure it had only been a few hours of sleep he'd gotten, but the depth of his unconsciousness had probably ensured it was a very refreshing sleep.

"Awake now, kiddo?" He almost jumped when he heard the voice next to him. Turning, he blinked drowsily at the blue-eyed man who he could vaguely recall having a conversation with. He'd spoken of him parents and how he thought they would make pretty angels. He had no idea where that'd come from, but it had given him the opportunity to give his body and mind a quick respite.

"Am good." He muttered bashfully. He peered up into concerned blue eyes, "Sorry 'bout that." The man looked slightly shocked.

"Don't apologize, kiddo! There's nothing wrong with wanting a nap." The man was purposely not mentioning the things he'd spoken, most of it centering on his 'dead' parents. Truthfully, he doubted it was possible for his father to die, and he'd rather it not happen any time soon…or at all. But his mother did die, and he remembered, that at one of the schools he'd gone to as a very small child had spoken once about death.

One of the student's grandparents had passed away, and the director of the school had talked to the student body in general about how Eliza's granny was now a beautiful angel who watched over her. All of them would become pretty angels watching over the Earth when they _passed on_. The man had avoided using the word _died_ or _dead_, because no matter how young they'd been (he believed he had been six or so…), they'd all known what the word _dead_ meant. They knew the finality of death.

Drawing himself out of his memories, he smiled shyly at the man before moving more comfortably into his own seat. The man smiled at him.

"I have to move back to my seat," the man said softly, as to not startle the still groggy boy, "I hope you feel better kiddo." He nodded gratefully, and smiled.

"The name is Daniel, kiddo." The boy simply smiled, and the man returned it, knowing he wouldn't get a name out of the bashful ten year old in front of him. He moved back to his seat further up front without another sound.

As soon as Daniel moved away from him, however, he felt the _wrong energy_ he'd felt earlier in the afternoon return with a vengeance. How did it conceal itself? When did he _stop_ feeling the negative energy circulating from the back of the bus? _How_ did he stop feeling the negative energy from the back of the bus?

He glanced behind him and saw a good number of passengers dosing off, a couple were reading or playing with their electronics, and some were just staring into space. Nothing they seemed to be doing looked incriminating enough for him to say who the energy was coming from. He turned back so he was facing the seat in front of him, just missing a head snap up when they caught sight of him peering around.

He needed to gather facts on this energy, it was annoying him how it could be there one second, and conceal itself the next. He'd been unable to fall asleep because the amount of negative energy had put him on hyper alert mode, giving him no chance to recuperate lost energy. When Daniel had arrived and sat next to him, he'd been overcome with a wave of sleepiness and he'd lost control of his tongue. He'd spouted talk about angels and death, though not that directly.

And after spouting all of that, he'd fallen asleep, completely disregarding the negative energy.

Or was it that he could no longer feel it?

Did Daniel have anything to do with this?

He sighed; he was getting a headache with all these ideas chasing each other around his brain. He was just about to rest his head on the window pane when the whole bus jerked forwards. His head snapped up and swerved to see the driver in the mirror.

The driver was knocked out.

Oh dear gods….

He felt the negative energy on the move, moving from back to front. He coiled his own aura energy around his core and focused on concealing it. He curled in on himself and wrapped his arms around his knees and slipped his backpack within the small cavity between his knees and chest, effectively hiding the sole evidence of his true persona. All in all, he gave off the illusion of a frightened child, his talent de-aging him a little more, enough to be unnoticeable, yet effective.

But he would wait to congratulate himself until after the threat was dealt with.

He felt a person slip into the seat next to him and pull him into his side, an arm around his shoulder, appearing to comfort him. A quick glance up informed him that it was the bond-haired, blue-eyed man, Daniel, who'd slipped in next to him. Daniel moved one finger to his lips for silence, and gestured to his act. He nodded twice, before curling in on himself once more. The negative energy was present, but not as noticeable as before. It seemed Daniel did block the energy from him while he'd been sleeping. He wondered if Daniel knew what he was doing.

He felt the negative energy stop in their isle, but didn't dare react to the pulse of energy that was sent towards him. It made him want to squirm and twist in distress, but he held still. He felt Daniel's grip tighten on him, as if reading his mind.

The negative energy paused, but moved forwards, searching the remaining section of the bus. He felt the frustration the source was giving off, spikes of negative energy hitting him. He tightened his aura energy around his core, praying to his father and any other god that might be listening that he would maintain his firm grasp and nothing would go wrong.

He forgot about Murphy's Law.

Another, more powerful, spike lashed out, drawing a whimper from him. Daniel gripped him tighter, as if hoping he'd been unheard, but he knew that his luck wasn't on his side this time. He'd felt as the source of negative energy snapped towards him, eyes tracing his form. He felt the smirk appearing on the source's lips. He felt Daniel's grip tighten until it was almost painful. He knew the man meant best, but it was starting to hurt now.

"Don't say a word." The blue-eyed man whispered. "Not a word little cousin. He already suspects you."

_Cousin…_

But who…

**BOOM!**

The bone-rattling explosion near the front of the bus created a force that threw everyone surrounding it at least half a block backwards. Daniel's grip wasn't strong enough to keep them together in the explosion. The force of the eruption had sent him careening backwards and farther away from Daniel.

Half-conscious, he was barely aware of a set of footsteps making their way towards him. He caught a glimpse of sandy brown hair and onyx eyes before the black spots in his eyes began to grow in size. His mind forced words out of his mouth, words he wouldn't have been able to understand in his current state, but which would've sent him into a panic attack in his fully aware state.

"_Semper veritas…_"* he breathed the words, barely audible, unaware of their meaning.

"_Semper fidelis. Dormus._" *Strong words whispered right next to his ear. And with that he slipped straight into the darkened arms of a smirking Morpheus.

_**CHANGING.**_

_**Completed on: Monday, June 11, 2012**_

_**Time: 9:27pm EST (Eastern Standard Time, USA)**_

_**Words: 4,557**_

**As an aspiring writer, nothing matters more to me than how much my readers enjoy my stories. Please take the time to review, even if it is just one or two words. Constructive criticism is appreciated, Flames are not.**

**Thanks Everyone!**

**Em =D**

_*semper veritas_: always truthful

_*semper fidelis_: always faithful

_*dormus_: sleep


End file.
